


To Absent Fathers and Best Friends

by captainnperfecthair



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Academy Era, Alcohol, Bones takes Jim to Georgia, Gen, M/M, Star Trek Beyond, Swearing, the story behind the toast to George Kirk in Beyond
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-15
Updated: 2017-01-15
Packaged: 2018-09-17 18:49:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9338216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/captainnperfecthair/pseuds/captainnperfecthair
Summary: Having seen what the Kelvin Anniversary did to Jim their first year at Starfleet Academy, Bones decides to take Jim away from their BS ceremonies to give him a quiet birthday in good company. And so the tradition of toasting to another birthday and to the late George Kirk was born.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This work was inspired by that scene in Beyond where Jim and Bones toast to Jim's birthday and to his dad. It was definitely not the first time they did it, so obviously it's a ritual they started some time ago. This is my idea of how that ritual began.
> 
> McKirk if you squint, but it's mostly just supposed to be a fluffy friendship fic.

Leonard McCoy remembers feeling like a complete fucking idiot a month and a half after the semester started--after meeting Jim Kirk--when he learned that Jim was the son of George Kirk. _The_ George Kirk. As in the one that had valiantly given his life for the surviving crew of the _U.S.S. Kelvin_ to get on escape pods and get to safety. A crew that involved one Winona Kirk and their newborn son, James T. Kirk.

 

God, he’d felt like a fucking _idiot!_

 

But Jim had laughed. Laughed and laughed and laughed, in fact. And then he’d started crying as the laughter died down. Then, finally, he’d breathlessly revealed to a very confused Georgia doctor that he was more relieved than Leonard could comprehend.

 

 _“Are you kidding me? It’s the best thing about you, Bones. The fact that you befriended me because of_ who I am _and not for who I’m_ related _to_!”

 

_“Well of course I’m your friend because of who you are. What other reason would I--?” And then he stopped himself, because Jim had just explained it, hadn’t he? Plenty of others had surely attempted to befriend Jim so they could say they were friends with the son of the late, great George Kirk. To see what kind of perks the name ‘Kirk’ could give them, too. “That’s a goddamn rotten thing to do,” he said, more quietly this time._

 

_Jim closed his eyes and sighed. “Yeah, pretty shit thing to do.”_

 

 _“I’m sorry, Jim. But I promise, I ain’t got any ulterior motives for being friends with you. In fact, the only reason I am_ ‘friends’ _with you because I can’t seem to get you to leave me the fuck alone,” he said teasingly, patting Jim on the arm. That got the kid laughing, shaking his head at him in amusement._

 

_“It’s okay, Bones. I won’t tell anyone that secretly you love me. I’ve got an awesome poker face. No one will ever know,” Jim replied, waggling an eyebrow._

 

_And with that, Bones let out a long-suffering sigh and rolled his eyes._

 

_Jim barked out a laugh, but sobered up and looked straight at Leonard, crystalline eyes gazing straight into his. “In all seriousness, though, Bones, I’m glad you didn’t know. And now that you do, I’m glad I have someone I know is here because of me and not because of my last name.”_

 

_“I’m here whenever you need me, Jim.”_

 

And Jim had needed him, especially about two months later when the anniversary of the _Kelvin_ incident--aka Jim’s birthday--came around. Jim had been able to avoid any and all news coverage and houndings by the press by living in Bumblefuck, Iowa for the past ten or so years. But that year he had arrived at the Academy, right at the heart of the Federation and of Starfleet. Bones had known as the day drew closer that they (Starfleet Command) would expect him to come to the ceremony they held every year. They would expect him to do interviews. The press would ask him what it was like to follow in his father’s footsteps, joining Starfleet. They’d ask about his relationship with his mother, with his brother. They’d ask him about his time in juvie, his record as a repeat-offender…

 

He’d be absolutely _bombarded._

 

And he had been. Bones had been unable to do anything to stop it, and he’d felt horrible about it for weeks after despite Jim’s protests that Starfleet Command would’ve gotten their way regardless.

 

Now, a year later, the anniversary is coming around again and as it nears, Jim has drawn into himself more and more. He eats less, he talks less, he smiles less...it’s heartbreaking to see. And so, Leonard decides to arrange a trip to Georgia for the pair of them. They’ll leave the night before the anniversary--which falls on a Friday, thankfully--and return Sunday night. Avoid the entire anniversary somewhere far, far away from Starfleet Academy where they can’t possible bother either of them.

 

When that Thursday finally comes around, Leonard gets back to their dorm before Jim does, which is unusual since normally Leonard is stuck working a shift at Starfleet Academy clinic caring for idiotic space cowboys who’ve been too damn reckless in simulations, playing dumb and dangerous games, or just being plain stupid. He grabs a duffle bag and begins packing. He’s just finished up when Jim comes in, slides his bag off his shoulder, and slings it onto his bed.

 

“Here, get packing,” Leonard says, chucking a duffle Jim’s way.

 

Jim’s startled, but nonetheless manages to catch the bag. Instead of packing, however, he just stares at it blankly before blinking back up at Leonard. “What?”

 

“We’re getting outta here for the weekend.”

 

“But it’s not the weekend,” Jim blankly retorts, still not getting what Leonard’s plan here is despite how intelligent the swaggering peacock of a cadet has proven himself to be.

 

“Very good, Jim. No, it’s not the weekend. But tomorrow is _You-Know-What_ so I figured we’d get outta here and stay in Georgia for the weekend.”

 

“But...Starfleet Command’ll--”

 

Leonard’s very aware that Starfleet Command will not be happy with their playing hookey. He knows that they’ll want Jim there again this year. And it’s funny that Jim is the one worrying about what Starfleet Command will think. But Leonard doesn’t care; he’s done caring, in fact. He won’t let there be a repeat of last year. There’s absolutely _no need_ to showboat his best friend around like this when they must surely know how much it pains Jim to have to be reminded on his damn _birthday_ no less about his father’s and several hundred others’ deaths aboard the Kelvin. The more he thinks about it, the more it makes Leonard’s blood boil to the point where he stares back at Jim and just replies, “Fuck ‘em.”

 

A twitch of a smile plays at the corner of Jim’s mouth and his eyes search Leonard’s for a long moment, the cogs in his brain turning as he thinks about God knows what. The mind of Jim Kirk is a strange, vast, and confusing place. Leonard would know: he’s spent almost two years trying to figure it out.

 

Finally, Jim’s expression sobers and he comes to a resolution. He gives Leonard a firm nod. “Fuck ‘em.”

 

“That’s it, kid,” Leonard proudly says, clapping him on the shoulder and gently guiding him into their room so he can pack.

 

**_Georgia: 30 hours later (2130 hrs)_ **

 

Leonard McCoy still thinks space is a cold, black void of death and danger in infinite forms and varieties, but as he leans back in his lawn chair and gazes up at the night sky that is oh so clear from the Georgian countryside, he can’t help but marvel at it. He can’t help but admire how much _life_ it’s teeming with when all one can see from where he and Jim sit beside each other are little specks of light that are meant to resemble planets and space stations and whole _galaxies._ Space from here looks so beautifully simple, but it is so, so, so much bigger and more complex than Leonard can even wrap his head around. He wonders just how much of it he’ll wind up seeing--courtesy of Jim Kirk, who will surely be dragging his screaming, protesting ass all across the damned universe--in his lifetime.

 

“I used to spend hours looking up at the sky in Riverside,” Jim quietly tells him from his chair beside Leonard’s. The Georgian turns his head toward Jim with a ruminating look as the younger man stares up at the stars. “From my window I could climb up onto the roof and it was just the _perfect_ spot, Bones, for stargazing. Wide open country all around, the farm silent and the town too far for its sounds to reach us...It was the best place to get lost.”

 

“Lost?” he softly prompts. He’ll rant about the reckless and dangerous choice to climb onto the roof later. Once Jim’s got this off his chest.

 

“In myself. In the world beyond the shitty place I called home. I could just _see_ all the worlds beyond this one and I’d imagine myself, sometimes, living on Vulcan, Betazed, Trill, Andoria... Fuck, even on Kronos once or twice.”

 

“Smart kid like you probably knew enough about those worlds to dream up a whole life for yourself, huh?” Leonard muses.

 

Jim laughs, but it’s a little hollow. Leonard can tell. The kid is easier to read than he thinks he is, or at least he is for Leonard. Not many catch on to the false smiles, the hollow laughs, and the projected confidence. So far, the only person Leonard’s met that has a similar set of skills is Christopher Pike. “I did.”

 

“This is really nice, Bones. You can’t do this sort of thing in San Francisco. Too many lights from the city; the Academy.”

 

“Yeah, it’s real nice and quiet down here.”

 

“Bones?”

 

“Yeah, Jim?” He looks over, meeting eyes with Jim.

 

“Thanks for bringing me here and away from…” he shakes his head, “All that stuff over at the Academy.”

 

“What are friends for?” he replies with a smile, and Jim smiles back. It’s good to see him smiling again and meaning it. Not faking it like he’s been doing ever since Christmas. “Hey,” he says suddenly, grabbing the glasses sitting at the foot of his chair and the bottle of whiskey beside them. “How about a toast?”

 

“Like either of us need an excuse to drink,” Jim jests, but he reaches out and takes a glass. “Wait, why do you have three glasses instead of two?”

 

“Hold on,” Leonard says. “Come ‘ere.” He grabs the two remaining glasses and the bottle before leading Jim over to the picnic table nearby. He sets the glasses down, uncorks the bottle, and motions for Jim to set his glass down so he can fill it.

 

“One for you,” he drawls, pouring Jim’s glass. “One for me,” he continues, moving on to the next glass. “And one for your paw,” he finishes, moving to the third glass.

 

Jim stares up at him wordlessly as he corks the bottle and sets it aside.

 

“Take your glass, Jim,” he gently instructs, gesturing to Jim’s glass after he’s picked up his own and realized that Jim has yet to stop staring.

 

“Bones, what--”

 

“We’re having a toast, Jim. Good God, man, I thought ya were smart?” he teases, but he gets no comment from Jim. The younger man simply picks up his glass.

 

“To absent fathers and best friends.”

 

“To dad,” Jim quietly murmurs.

 

“Happy birthday, Jim,” Leonard adds before gesturing down to the untouched glass on the table, indicating they clink glasses with it. With that, the pair bring their glasses together with the third before raising their glasses and taking a swig.

 

“I dunno what I’d do without you, Bones,” Jim says, staring back across the table at Leonard with the utmost sincerity. Something in Leonard’s throat catches and he fights back the urge to get more emotional than this night has already made him.

 

“Best not think about that. You might start gettin’ ideas and seein’ if you can pull ‘em off when I’m not around or when I turn my back,” he says with as straight a face as he can manage as he takes another sip of his whiskey.

 

Jim lowers his own glass from his lips and laughs. “Like I need to come up with any. I’ve already got a list I’m just waiting to try out.”

 

Leonard’s gaze snaps over to Jim’s and he sputters as he tries too hastily to swallow his drink. “Goddamn juvenile!” he coughs out.

 

“But I’m _your_ goddamn juvenile. And you love me!” Jim cheerily replies.

 

“Yeah. God help me,” he grumpily replies, raising his glass up once again to take a large swill of whiskey, “I do.”


End file.
